


Sub Rosa

by Kandju



Category: Star Wars, The Mandalorian, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din Djarin - Freeform, F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, Star Wars - Freeform, Wall Sex, midnight sex, the mandalorian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21930916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kandju/pseuds/Kandju
Summary: sub ro·sa/ˌsəb ˈrōzə/adjective · adverbhappening or done in secret.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 330





	Sub Rosa

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over the span of a week. Haven’t proof read, so if it’s sewage my bad :)

Waking up in the middle of the night, skin damp with perspiration, limbs tangled in thin bed sheets had been the last thing on Y/N’s agenda. All she wanted nowadays was a deep, dreamless sleep that left her feeling refreshed for the day ahead. No— wait, that was a lie. There most certainly was other things she wanted. Those things began and ended with one man. One man who’d managed to unintentionally worm his way into her heart; set up camp, kick back in a lawn chair, and settle in for the long haul.

The Mandalorian.

With a shuddering sigh, Y/N slowly freed herself from the cream bedsheets, pausing only once she had finished to press a feverish palm to her forehead. She outwardly groaned at the sensation of own sweat slick against her hand. Gross.

She wanted to blame him for these restless nights, but couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault that she was hopelessly infatuated with him— why the hell was she anyway? Maybe it was the helmet shrouding him in mystery, the intimidating aura, the voice...

Holy hell, that fucking voice.

With yet another groan, Y/N eventually swung her legs over the side of her cot, flinching slightly at the frigid floor meeting her bare skin. Pushing sweat drenched strands of h/c hair out of her face, the woman precariously rose to stand. Immediately, she was greeted by a freezing draft of air circulating through the living space. 

She forgot how cold the Razor Crest could be at night.

Shuddering, Y/N grabbed the empty glass on her nightstand, and unsteadily shuffled out into the hallway; in search of the refresher. The only source of light was the dull glow from along bottom of the ship’s walls, faintly illuminating the floor. That didn’t stop Y/N from bumping into something every so often, hissing quiet curses under her breath. These ‘night-lights’ really did suck ass. They hardly even irradiated her feet, much less anything around her.

Reaching the refresher without somehow hurting herself was a blessing in itself. After sidling into the tiny space and sliding the door shut, Y/N filled her glass with water from the sink. Her thoughts wandered once more after setting the glass down in favor of washing her face, relishing in the refreshing coolness of the water washing away her perspiration.

The Mandalorian, in her mind, was off limits. A curio not meant to be tainted by touch. A relic meant to be observed from afar, to be admired. A meal you want to order off a menu, but can’t because of the price. Basically, just something Y/N couldn’t have and never would have. Despite how much she wanted him.

She wanted to touch his bare skin, no doubt hard and lean from his occupation. Run her slender fingers through thick hair, maybe give it a little tug if he was into that. She wanted to canvass his face like a map waiting to be written, memorizing every intricate detail through touch. His nose, his jawline, any little scars... his lips.

Realizing she’d been wasting water for about a solid minute, Y/N shut off the facet and buried her face in a nearby towel. God, what was wrong with her. She had just cooled herself down, only to get flustered once more.

Ugh.

Once she was dried off, Y/N quietly slid the refresher door back open and shuffled into the hallway, not bothering to close the door after her. She paused to steel herself against the frigid draft circulating through the Razor Crest, anticipating the temperature beforehand. Then she began a groggy walk back to her room.

What she hadn’t anticipated, however, was suddenly running straight into a solid figure. Okay, there was no way it was the same chair she’d tripped over earlier. The hand suddenly striking out to almost bruisingly seize her wrist solidified that thought. Chairs, as annoying as they are to avoid in the dark, don’t grab people.

“Quiet, it’s just me.”

The words almost instantly quelled the momentum to cry out in Y/N’s chest, a relieved sigh escaping her. Fuck, he’d scared her. But wait...

“Why are you awake?”

His voice wasn’t modulated.

“— Thirsty.”

Was all Y/N managed to rasp out, e/c orbs desperately attempting to adjust to the almost pitch black darkness. But they didn’t, all that stood out was the Mandalorian’s figure— nothing else. All her other senses, however, were much more sensitive. She was most aware of his grip on her wrist, and how her free hand was gripping his bicep in a viselike grip. A panicked reflex. 

“Then where’s your water?”

He questioned dryly, the humor a bit easier to read in his tone without the helmet modifying his baritone. Godgodgod— he wasn’t wearing his helmet! Oh, and she’d forgotten her glass of water in the refresher. Typical.

“Uh...”

She blanked, suddenly aware that he was still touching her, and likewise. Fingers trembling, Y/N released the bounty hunter’s arm. He followed in suit by freeing her wrist of his iron grip. She almost immediately missed his touch, despite the bruises he unintentionally left on her skin.

They stood in silence for a long moment, Y/N’s thoughts racing as she tingled with anxiety and apprehension. She was so close, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him. So contrasting to the freezing air encompassing them. His usual beskar armor was not being worn, leaving the bounty hunter in nothing but a thin shirt and pants. He was essentially bare to her.

“I’ll just— uh, I’ll just go.”

Y/N uttered, embarrassed at her staring as she moved to brush past him. She didn’t get the chance to escape much farther. The arm suddenly shooting out in front of her ensuring so. Startled Y/N, moved to step back. Again, her action was subdued. Mando had now seized both of her hands in his calloused hands, his thumbs pressing firmly against the inside of her wrists. 

Y/N’s lips parted to question him, only to be silenced by the sudden feeling of pectorals under her hands. Huh. He had taken her hands, and placed them on his chest. On his own. She wasn’t initiating anything, he was.

What the fuck was happening. She must be dreaming. Was she dreaming…?

“Touch me,” The Mandalorian stated firmly, his husky baritone striking Y/N’s very core, making her heart race even faster. Despite the confident words, and didn’t radiate any. In fact his underlying tone sounded somewhat… vulnerable. “Please.”

Still shocked, the woman remained frozen for a long moment. What could she have possibly done to tempt him? She knew that the Mandalorian was touched starved, it was evident in every little jolt he gave whenever she treated wounds he couldn’t do himself. Hell, even barely touching him, donned in his gleaming armor, seemed to make him uncomfortable. So yeah, he was definitely not used to it.

And now, they stood together in the cold darkness of the Razor Crest’s hallway, Mando’s hands trembling slightly as they firmly pressed her hands to his toned chest. The darkness sparing him the betrayal to his religion, to keep his face and skin hidden. He’d found a loophole, uncharted territory. And he’d chosen Y/N to brave this new path with him. 

When it seemed as if she’d become a statue, she finally did as he’d requested. Her hands slowly dragged down his chest, the thin material of his shirt doing nothing to protect him from her touch. He released her wrists once Y/N reached his abdomen, slender fingers napping the hardened muscle taut beneath his skin. If this was a dream, she’d make the most of it before waking up. She noted the idle twitching of his hands that hung limply at his sides.

The Mandalorian’s breath hitched as Y/N’s hands left his stomach in favor of his face, pressing gently against his jaw. She huffed a small chuckle of amusement at the sensation of stubble pricking at her smooth palms. It was fitting for him to have. Like a tired, single dad.

Her hands then continued their conquest to delineate every inch of his face. Strong defined jaw, the rise of his cheekbones, thick, long lashes that fluttered against her hand as she felt beneath his eyes. The sharp ridge of his nose, which felt as if it had been broken quite a few times — that sounded about right— and last, but her definite favorite of his ruggedly handsome features. His lips. They were surprisingly soft against the pad of her thumb, slightly chapped from years of biting them. Aw— he was a lip biter! 

She wondered just how many times teeth grazed over his bottom lip beneath the beskar helmet, unbeknownst to her throughout the year of knowing him.

Y/N’s hands then slowly retreated across his cheeks, moving to brush through his thick hair. He seemed like a brunette to her, but who knew. He could be blonde for all she knew. Not that she had anything against blondes, the bounty hunter just didn’t seem— just wasn’t blonde in her mind’s eye. 

Wow. Here she was, getting free reign to touch the man of her dreams, and she was having an inner turmoil about his fucking hair color.

“Are you blonde?”

The words escaped her without thought, a horrified expression painting itself across her features immediately afterwards. WHY WAS SHE LIKE THIS-

“..No.”

Mando replied slowly, easing Y/N’s extreme embarrassment with the amusement lining his tone. Thanks the stars he didn’t take it the wrong way. Talking and asking questions seemed like treading thin ice when it came to him. Always had been that way, since the day the bounty hunter invited her to join him in his travels. 

Y/N damn near jumped out of her skin at the sudden graze of his calloused fingers against her cheeks, hands mirroring each other in movement. She hadn’t expected him to touch her. She released her gentle grip in his hair to link her hands at the nape of Mando’s neck.

It was hard to believe in this moment that he’d ever hurt another being, with the tenderness of his thumbs stroking up her cheeks. The toughness of his hands was welcome against her soft skin, the contrast in sensation pleasing. He touched her like a man starved, feeling her face as if she would disappear at any moment. Like she was everything

Then the freezing wall of the ship met Y/N’s back, resulting in her body reflexively tensing away from the coldness. Mando has subtly walked her into the surface, and she had been too absorbed in his hands to notice. Why couldn’t she have just picked a long sleeved shirt, or even just a t-shirt? Anything would be better than a tank top on a ship that was never warm—

Her thought cycle was cut off at the sudden puff of air against her lips, his body heat almost suffocating and inches from her arched figure. She still couldn’t see any of his face— a featureless outline. A fill in the blank.

His chapped lips brushed Y/N’s after the soft exhale, the mixture in sensation making her lips tingle. Waitwaitwait— was he going to kiss her? Just that morning, they could barely even engage in small chat about the weather. And now, less than 24 hours later, Y/N was trapped against the wall of his ship; his lips hovering dangerously over her own. What was going through his head…?

“May I?”

Mando murmured almost inaudibly, warm, calloused hands still holding her face with tenderness. 

—Did he even have to ask?

Y/N’s reply was to close the distance herself. His behavior being abnormal or not, she wasn’t going to waste this chance to indulge in her want for him. She was an opportunist, after all. Besides, he was quite literally shaking with reciprocative desire. She couldn’t deny him that relief.

She hoped his intentions were to take her in the dark hallway of the Razor Crest, clear the looming sexual tension that had been heavy in the air for quite some time now. Y/N had thought that she’d been the only one to notice that tension.

She’d been wrong, apparently.

The Mandalorian ardently returned the deep kiss, hands frantic as they finally began to map her body. And boy did they explore. Y/N had trouble trying to focus on both sensations simultaneously, distracted by the teeth grazing her bottom lip and the hands rubbing down the curve of her hips. She let out a muffled squeak at his large, warm hands suddenly giving her ass a firm squeeze. Of their seemingly own accord, Y/N’s hips slowly rolled forward into his, hoping to entice the warrior into moving things along faster. Then he was gone, leaving behind the ghostlike tingling all over Y/N’s sensitive body. 

Oh for fuck sake, he was so skittish-

The annoyed whine bubbling past the woman’s lips was abruptly cut off at the the Mandalorian’s reappearance. This time his shirt was gone, earning a startled gasp from Y/N at the feeling of his warm skin against palms that had been reaching out for him. He let out a pleased groan at the her slender fingers on his toned chest, no doubt unused to the feeling of bodily contact. Y/N promised herself by the time their little tryst concluded, she’d have him addicted.

“Your arms. Up.”

The warrior commanded huskily, hands coming remove hers from his chest. Y/N obeyed, slightly miffed at her hands having been swatted off him. That feeling was remedied at Mando gripping the hem of her tank top, and swiftly yanking it up and off her frame. Holy shit, this ship was so cold!

Y/N felt him stiffen as she reached out, seized his wrists, and pulled him into her. The searing heat of his skin soothed the goosebumps prickling her soft skin. He must’ve picked up on her objective, his hands breaking free of hers to run up her arms, chasing some of the cold away. He was weirdly.. chivalrous. 

Ever since she’d known him, he’d been like that. Being a gentlemen at the most bizarre times. One minute he’d start a fight in her honor just because someone in a bar catcalled her, then the next he’d watch as she tripped and fell into a mud puddle and laugh. 

His hands then suddenly met the curve of Y/N’s breasts, thumb brushing along the outline tantalizing. Her nipples were painfully taut from the cold and arousal alike, so this resolved nothing. In response, she whined and pushed her chest into his hands. He chuckled at that. Jerk.

“You keep teasing me and we’re gonna have issues.”

Y/N snarked, agitated at his continued avoidance of providing her physical relief. 

“Shut up.”

Did he just..? Nuh uh!

She jerked in his grip as she opened her mouth, a feisty reply hot on her tongue. She never got to say it. The Mandalorian’s chapped lips silenced her efficiently, burning hands fully encompassing her breasts. Ah, much better.

Y/N moaned into his mouth as he nipped her bottom lip lightly, thumbs brushing and feeling the outline of her nipples in the darkness of the hallway. His hands continued their worshipping as Y/N’s reached down to his pants, working to subtly untie the drawstring keeping the material stable on his hips. He noticed almost immediately. Fortunately, the bounty hunter apparently decided his little teasing game was over. His hands abandoned Y/N’s breasts to work his thumbs under the waistband of her sweatpants, pushing it down her hips until it fell the rest of the way on its own. His own pants followed in suit as she concluded untying them. 

Now, completely bare except for his undergarment, Y/N was apprehensive. Despite them both being completely shrouded in darkness, she felt as if the Mandalorian could see him clear as day. A sweltering palm coming to rest tenderly on her hip almost immediately eased that feeling. She reciprocated by resting her own hand just beneath his jaw, slender fingers stroking along the curve of his jaw. 

He must be anxious too, having not exposed himself like this to anyone for quite some time. That made Y/N smile to herself out of fondness for the man. He’d picked her, out of any other person, to become intimate with. It really hit her in that moment, that this was the proof that he returned her sentiment. That he felt something for her in return. That her adoration was requited.

“Mando-“ Y/N began, breaking the heavy silence between them. She felt his breath upon her face when he almost immediately interrupted, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

“Dyn.”

“... Pardon?”

“— My name. It’s Dyn.”

Y/N’s breath audibly hitched as she weighed the meaning of his seemingly simple words. She finally had the gift of knowing his name. After all those months earning his trust. 

“Well then. Dyn,” She started once again, leg reaching up to slowly hook enticing around the back of the Mandalorian’s knee. 

“I want you-”

“I need you.”

His second interruption had Y/N frozen in shock. That was… unexpected. Certainly not unwelcome just unanticipated. Ma- Dyn, was pretty candid in general, only speaking when his words really meant something. That didn’t really apply to personal moments. But then he just— said that like the easiest thing in the world. 

Stars, Y/N loved this man. 

Nothing more needed to be said. In a swift movement, Dyn yanked her undergarment down to fall at her ankles. Then firmly gripped the back of the h/c haired beauty’s thighs and hitched them around his toned waist. There would more teasing, no more conversation, no more delays. 

The bounty hunter tucked his head beneath Y/N’s jaw, lips and teeth grazing her pulse point. Her hands shot out to twine around his broad shoulders as an anchor, legs tightening around his hips. One of his hands then reached down to himself.

Dyn left a stinging love bite on her pulsepoint as he eased inch by inch into Y/N, attempting to distract her from the intrusion. It didn’t help much. Her nails dug into his firm skin as she squirmed, kiss bruised lips parted as she practically keened at the combined sensations. The pleasure and the ache combined was positively stupendous.

The brief moment he took to allow Y/N adjustment to him was much appreciated. The little kisses he peppered against her collarbone a silent apology for the pain. She squirmed slightly after the long pause, hooking her ankles to have the Mandalorian sink into her even further. A wordless invitation to have at it. One that was apparently not noticed.

“God damn you— Move, Dyn.”

Y/N managed to hiss out, hands gripping Dyn’s shoulders tighter. He responded with an amused huff at her bossiness, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Breathing in the natural scent of the young woman’s soft skin, the bounty hunter’s hands slid up from her thighs to grip her hips. She wasn’t going anywhere.

The pace he started with was slow and patient, his first thrust much like the one he sank into her with. He drew himself into her heat as far as was possible, only withdrawing after their hips met. The way the Mandalorian fucked was strikingly similar to his personality. Methodical, anomalous… and eventually impatient.

Y/N groaned at the jolts of pleasure tingling through her frame, fingers twitching as her body grew increasingly tense. The tender treatment was nice and all, but she wanted— needed that orgasm that seemed so close. Her hands slowly moved from Dyn’s brawny shoulders, up his neck to run up and through his thick hair. The warrior grunted lowly at the sensation of her nails scraping against his scalp, which were balling into fists. Then she gave his hair a firm jerk, hoping to provoke him a bit. It worked.

The grunt escalated to a growl as the bounty hunter released one hip, the strength in his occupied hand increasingly to the point of borderline pain. As he roughly hoisted her even higher up the wall, Dyn’s now freed hand slipped between their bodies and down towards her sex. Then he started full on hammering the young woman into the wall, leaning forward to lightly bite her shoulder.

With the new pace causing him to reach even deeper into her, his thumb rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves, Y/N was deluged with waves of pleasure. Her grip in Dyn’s hair tightened further when he finally hit at the most perfect angle, sending the woman spiraling with an echoing shriek escaping her kiss bruised lips. The Mandalorian followed shortly with his own release, hips snug against hers and he came with a low groan shuddering his frame. 

A long, but congenial pause hung heavy in the air as the pair came down from their highs; combined breaths loud against the contrast of the Razor Crest’s midnight silence. When Y/N finally regained the sense of her surroundings, she found Dyn’s forehead rested against her own as he recovered. Cute. 

Y/N took that opportunity to press a gentle kiss to his lips, rousing him from his euphoria with a quiet moan of appreciation. His strong grip abandoned her hip to let the woman slide down the now warmed, sweat slicked wall; his hands coming to rest tenderly on her cheeks. Y/N reciprocated the endearment by releasing the gifts of hair clenched in her loose fists to instead stroke through them. The tender moment was the most idyllic both had ever had in many years. 

Then it hit her. 

“I think I left my water in the refresher.”

Y/N couldn’t have known for sure in the pitch black darkness, but she just knew that he was smiling.


End file.
